Bad Days
by CarnivorousButter
Summary: Matthew has had a terrible day and then attempts to cut himself deep. And who can save him, mentally and physically? Trigger warnings for self-harm and suicide.
1. Worst Day Ever

**A/N: First fanfic on this account~! WARNING: SELF-HARM TRIGGERS ;A; WORDS WRODS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia :3**

* * *

Today was not Matthew's day.

He woke up late and fell out of bed, effectively stubbing his toe. Of course, no one heard him when he cussed loudly- except for Alfred, who laughed from the room next to him. "What's the matter Mattie, Lovino rubbing off on you?" he teased. Matthew blushed. He had been hanging around the foul-mouther Italian more frequently lately, it was true...

And then he missed the bus, despite Alfred asking the driver to wait. The snooty old man, Mr. Edelstein, did no such thing and drove off just as Matthew opened his front door.

When he finally arrived at school, huffing and puffing from running, he was ignored by the people in the office, so he just headed off to class. He managed to slip into the room and to his seat without even being seen and realized that he forgot his homework at facedesking, he wan't surprised when the teacher walked right on by him, praising his brother for a good job. Naturally Al had forgotten about him already.

At lunch Carlos accidentally mistook him for Al and punched him in the face. Then he dragged him out back, beat him up a bit, and tossed him in the dumpster. To add insult to injury, he threw his lunch garbage on top of him and spit on his bloody, bruised face. "Take that, stupid American." he sneered walking away. Matthew just lay there in a daze for a while, breathing shallowly due to his aching torso. Finally he managed to crawl out, just as the bell rang. Stumbling back to the building, random pieces of trash began to fall out of his hair and off his clothes, earning more than just a few odd glances.

Reaching for the door, a kid stuck his foot out and tripped him. One second he was facing the classroom, and another he was met with a face full of floor, bruising his nose and dignity as kids all around began to snicker and laugh.

Ignoring them, he headed off to the nurse's office instead, feeling miserable. Why did the universe hate him so much? He had relatively good grades, he was nice to people when they bothered to notice him, and he hardly ever complained about anything. And in return he was greeted with ignorance, pain, and violence.

Why him?

* * *

During last period it began to rain. He groaned, not caring if anyone happened to look his way. Not that anyone did, though. He stared at the clock, willing for it to go faster. It was just five more seconds until this horrid day would be over.

Four...

He could go home and mope around, maybe make some pancakes.

Three...

What would be the point? Why did he even try anymore? It would be so much easier if he didn't exist.

Two...

Maybe he should just end it all. No one would miss him, right?

One...

...Right?

=RRRRIIIIINNNGGG!=

Nearly jumping a foot out of his chair, Matthew stayed put as the kids all scrambled around him to get to their lockers and go home, to enjoy the weekend. He waited until they were mostly gone so he wouldn't get trampled out in the hallway- he learned that the hard way. He was especially invisible on Fridays for some reason.

Realizing Alfred had left already with the truck, he sighed. Looks like he'd be walking back home, too. In the rain.

And it just so happened as he turned onto a street, a car went speeding past and through a puddle, soaking him to the bone. Chilled to his core, the small blond staggered home, limping slightly from his altercation with Carlos earlier.

He reached his house a minute later, slamming the door behind him and rushing upstairs. Not even caring that he was wet, he fell onto his bed and began to sob his heart out. Why did life hate him so much? And it wasn't even like this was the first time this happened, either! It was almost daily. He shakily reached under his pillow for a knife and pulled it out, running his fingers over the tip. Slowly, as if in a daze, he trudged to the door and locked it. Sitting back down on his bed, he pulled his sleeves up to reveal pure white, clean, pure arms.

As if he was hypnotized Matthew dragged the blade across the skin of his left forearm, watching the blood drip down into his old jeans, fascinated. Realizing it felt relieving on his troubled mind, he cut again. And again.

And again.

Time seemed to pass by. It could have been hours, or only mere seconds. He didn't know. All he knew was that his vision was getting very blurry and it wasn't from his crying. That had stopped long ago. He felt nothing but peace as he flopped over onto his covers, closing his eyes and allowing the darkness to consume him.

**A/N: This won't be very long, I'm afraid. What pairing do you guys want? Franada? AmeCan? PruCan? RusCan? CanUK? Tell me! And also, did you like it? I might be able to update tomorrow... idk... depends... anywho, I have another account, it's Canadian Erect Mountie. Please read my stories on there!**


	2. Awake

**A/N: PruCan won :D Poor Franada got like no votes ;A; Since this happened we'll have USUK and Papa!France. Sorry it's been like a month lol**

**Disclaimer: Check it out, y'all, I'm Japanese, I wear glasses, I'm a genius, and I have a throne. Sadly, so does Hidekaz Himaruya, but he happens to be older than little old me. By the way, I just read yesterday that Spain's human name is Antonio. JUST LIKE ME :D And we're both ultra-gay~! JK, but not Rowling :3**

**Seriously though. I'm not Japanese, nor do I wear glasses. The genius part is debatable.**

**WARNING: TRIGGERS FOR SELF HARM AND SUICIDE. **

* * *

Francis was a single father. After an unsatisfactory life prostituting himself he got one of his mistresses knocked up. She dumped the kids on him and left. At first he was going to dump them in an orphanage, but then he looked into his baby boy's faces. He saw himself in their eyes and couldn't bring himself to abandon them. Not to mention the fact he was getting older, and while he was still attractive, only the women with fetishes wanted him.

He turned his life around immediately.

Being single was great for him- he could finally focus on his life. He rented an apartment for a while to get on his feet, and hired a nanny named Elizaveta to watch Alfred and Matthew during the day. He took up a job as a waiter in a nearby Italian restaurant, working his way up until he was head chef. The manager, Mr. Roma Vargas, liked Francis a lot and was very wealthy. There were rumors he worked for the Mafia but nothing was ever proven. Roma knew it was Francis's dream to open his own restaurant, a French one, and decided to help him out.

Let's just say Francis now owns a four-star restaurant called _Juste un Peu, _which meant "just a little." His boys were his pride and joy. He loved them with every fiber of his being, more than he's ever loved anyone in his entire life.

That's why he almost died that evening when he found his little Matthew bleeding out on his bed, weapon of choice clutched loosely in his right hand. He screamed and ran over to his side at once, checking for just the lightest pulse, anything to reassure him that his boy, his son, was not dead. Matthew was pale, whiter than anything Francis had seen, and his skin was cold, oh God so cold.

Alfred could be heard running down the hallway to see why his father screamed and gasped in horror. He whipped out his phone and dialed 911 while Francis frantically checked for a pulse. He couldn't feel anything and pressed his fingers harder into Matthew's wrist. Growing desperate, he hugged the boy's torso closely to his ear and listened. _Thud...Thud._

Francis felt his heart sink ever lower. The timing was off, Matthew's heart was stuttering, trying to keep the boy alive. "Please do not die, Matthew." he whispered brokenly as they waited for the ambulance to arrive. Alfred walked towards the two and hugged both Matthew and Francis. He was not ashamed to admit there were tears cascading down his cheeks. "Why did he do it, Papa?" he sobbed. "Why?"

The Frenchman only shook his head and sniffed sadly. "I do not know. I cannot believe I didn't see any warning signs... do you think, he did it on a whim? Or has he been feeling this way for a long time now?" he said, voice growing smaller with every word spoken. Alfred just kept shaking his head, to much in shock to really know what was happening. They sat like that for a while until the EMTs knocked briskly on the door. Alfred practically shot downstairs to let them in.

Before they could take his precious son away Francis leaned back from Matthew and straightened his glasses. If it hadn't been for the blood everywhere and lack of chest movement, the small Canadian could have been asleep.

But Francis's biggest fear right then was that Matthew wouldn't wake up.

* * *

He was cold. Everything was dark and he couldn't feel anything, really, except for the cold. "H-hello?" he called out weakly into the darkness. His voice rang eerily in the silence. He stepped forward, but nothing was there to step on. He shivered violently and clutched his arms to his chest. He didn't like it here. Wasn't being dead supposed to be different? Had he gone to Hell because he committed suicide? But wait, wasn't Hell really hot and stuff? Damn, he should have payed attention in the few times he'd been to church.

There was nothing all around him. Matthew had never felt so alone, but he did feel a tear roll down his cheek. He sat down on whatever was there, holding him, and curled up into a ball. The thoughts he had when he was alive began to return, but these were good thoughts and memories of the time with his family, and when he was happy. He felt awful about his decision- what would Alfred and Francis think? Would they hold a funeral? Would they cry? The thought of string, laughing Al crying made Matthew feel even worse. What kind of a brother was he? And to Francis- God, he was the worst son ever too!

"I wish I hadn't done it," he whispered into the silence. All at once the world around him became grey. A small pinprick of light appeared on the horizon and he stood up quickly. Ignoring the cliche 'don't go towards the light', he ran to it, growing more and more hopeful as it became bigger. When it felt like he was surrounded by the brightness he closed his eyes and floated into it.

There were muffled voices around him and suddenly he felt really heavy. Struggling to find his eyelids, Matthew sighed deeply. The noise continued. It sounded like two people arguing with each other. He blinked a few times and groaned weakly at thee bright light. There was immediate silence and someone slipped their hand into his.

"Matthew?" whispered Alfred.

He let his eyes adjust for a minute before making out the blurry forms of his brother and father standing next to his bed. He tried to reach out for his glasses, but was annoyed to realize his arms and legs were restrained to the bed. Al quickly put his glasses on so Matthew could see properly.

They looked awful, noted Matthew, feeling like shit. Al smiled at him- a relieved, loving, worried smile. "I;m so, so glad you're awake Matt. I- we all thought you were a goner for sure." he said, squeezing his hand. Matthew looked down to see a thick layer of bandages covering his left arm.

One glance at his Papa told him he was going to have to explain a lot of shit.

Maple.


End file.
